What You Want
by feelingshortofstable
Summary: This story picks up at one of those pivotal Gilmore Girls moments - Season 6-08, when Jess is trying to talk some sense into Rory. This is my personal version of her getting back on track.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I am not the genius that thought up Gilmore Girls - therefore, I have no ownership whatsoever. Sad.

What You Want

Chapter 1

"What the hell is going on?" Jess was shaking his head as he spoke.

Rory continued, "I told you – he's tired, and his family's bugging him, right now –"

Jess could not listen to that line of crap. He interrupted her. "No, I mean, with you." His 'you' was emphatic. "What's going on with you?" He looked her up and down as he talked at her, and his voice sounded angrier than he intended. Who was he to berate her like this? After all, she did appear honestly confused by him.

"What do you mean?" she asked, softly.

His tone overpowered hers. Fuck it. He cared. And in his mind, he had to help. "You know what I mean. I know you. I know you better than anyone. This isn't you."

She gave a tiny shrug; it may have been embarrassment. Jess could not tell. Rory could, and she was starting to feel exposed. "I don't know."

"What are you doing? Living at your grandparents' place? Being in the DAR? No Yale? WHY did you drop out of Yale?!" Each word in Jess's final question felt like a pointed finger was jabbing at Rory's chest. Her breathing felt more labored than normal. She could no longer recall her long list of reasons for being out of school for months, with no real plan except whittling away at her mountain of community service and pretending that she was finding her way to a plan – a life plan.

She blinked hard and responded, knowing she was lying before she even opened her mouth. "It's complicated."

Jess jumped before she could continue to make excuses like that. "It's not! It's not complicated." He was dividing syllables more than normal and the Italian in him was also making a debut, as his hands gestured sharply with the stresses on his words. How could he make her see clearly what he was seeing?

The closer he hit to her insecurities, the more she feigned being affronted. "You don't know." How dare he, she thought. Yeah, how dare he be right, a smaller voice said.

"This isn't you! This. You – going out with this _jerk_, with a Porsche? We made fun of guys like this." He pointed back toward the bar. Half of him hoped said jerk stayed at the booth where he had abruptly left, and the other half wanted him to stroll on out into this conversation. Perhaps this Logan could see for himself how little he knew of Rory. Jess felt determined. He had seen a bit of the Rory he knew last night – the Rory he loved at one time – and this Rory before him was just a terrible false front for the real thing. He knew it wouldn't help anything if Logan walked out. Too big a part of Jess wanted to physically shake him up a bit. And he had tried to repress that kind of behavior. No, it wouldn't be helpful if Logan joined them.

"You caught him on a bad night," Rory tried to justify. Great, Jess thought. Fake Rory is standing up for the jerk. Jess didn't care very much just how serious they were. She was going to realize what she was saying, if he had anything to do with it.

"This isn't about him!" This sure was frustrating. "Okay? Screw him." He took a breath and tried to slow down a bit, to spell it out for Rory. "What's going on with you?" Long pause, for dramatic effect. "This isn't you, Rory. You know it isn't. What's going on?" He entreated to her. Jess felt so strongly that her world was off-kilter. With how much he cared about her, a little effort had a big effect. He watched her eyelids flutter as she took a breath to prepare her speech. Nothing came. He relaxed a bit, knowing they were making progress. Please don't come out here, jackass, he thought towards Logan.

He leaned in a bit, startling her reply. "I don't know." She saw it. She suddenly saw what he had been seeing tonight. "I don't know," she repeated, clearly lost. Rory pulled her jacket closed, and crossed her arms in front of her body, unconsciously hiding.

Lecture over. He brought a hand to his mouth, blocking any more negative comments. She didn't need those. He knew they would no longer be helpful. Jess spoke up again, but his voice was much softer. "Okay, uh, maybe – maybe – maybe…maybe we'll catch up…at a better time." He couldn't help himself. There were so many things he wanted to say, but he stuttered over the least of them. Instead he made a motion of gentle contact with her arm, nodded slightly at her, and began to walk away.

Every muscle in his body was protesting his movement. Why was he walking away from her? Why was he always walking away? His mind was yelling at him with each step. What was she thinking? He thought they just had a much needed conversation, but what if she just turned around and walked right back to Logan? Walked right back to that meaningless, quasi-life she was leading? How would he know what she chose to do? He didn't feel right trusting this Rory yet. He had to ensure she would not repeat herself.

What if he never saw her again? No, he wouldn't let that happen. Even still, the thought stopped him from continuing his path away from her. It surprised him – that thought of not laying eyes on her ever again. It surprised him how strongly his mind and body wanted to protest such a possibility. Without a doubt, he wanted to see her again. He wanted very much to see her more. He wrote a book because of her, dammit! Short novel. Whatever. He wanted to talk with her and watch as her bright blue eyes lit up impossibly more over something inconsequential to everyone but them. He wanted this too much for it to be normal behavior, and it scared him. He wanted to walk next to her and hold her hand and brush her hair off her cheeks when the wind placed it there. He wanted her. He wanted her to the point that it all almost felt wrong. Had anyone ever desired something – someone – this badly? Certainly not him, that much he knew.

Even in high school, it hadn't felt like this, and they were together then. Jess knew something was different when, last night, he could not leave her without the promise of something – anything – more. That had been why he asked if he could see her again. He had to. He just didn't realize why.

All this he thought in a matter of a couple seconds.

He turned back to her. "Happy birthday, by the way." She just looked at him. "Wasn't that a couple weeks ago, your birthday?" She nodded slightly, sadly. Jess gave her a single nod in return, and the first real smile he'd had that evening. It was small, but it was a catalyst. He could not stop himself from looking at her a moment longer. And in that moment, he felt she was going to be alright, because of the unmasked anguish appearing on her face. To him, it signaled that he had made some sense with her, and he was not crazy for reminding her of the Rory he had known. She hadn't changed passed the point of no return. How badly, he realized, he wanted her return. She was just about everything to him, and he had been lying to himself for a while now. He really was missing her.

"Jess…" she said, weakly, searchingly. He envisioned himself going to her, and holding her tight to his body, feeling her yield with one touch. Suddenly, he was certain of the fact that she would yield to him, effortlessly. The thought widened his smile infinitesimally. It was a smile that is in one moment, both impossibly happy and frighteningly sad. He knew he would not go to her. He already had done that, in a way. Now she was confused. In Jess's mind, it was a better confused than her time-off-from-Yale confused, though. This confusion was regarding greater truths, and was less about the muddled details that had tripped her, made her falter, and made her doubt herself. Deep down, Jess hated that she had felt such strong self-doubt.

The confused look remained on Rory's face, as the past six months reeled through her memory. She bit her lip, her anger mounting with each and every frame that rolled by. Jess groaned inwardly at himself, unable to tear his eyes away from where her bottom lip was turning white. It wasn't normal to be turned on while feeling so many other conflicting things, and especially over a girl that was not his. That reminder abruptly halted his thoughts. He forced himself to look at her eyes. They were moving like mad. Was that anger? Realization? God, Jess hoped so.

A good two minutes had passed since Rory uttered his name. Why? Why had she said his name like that?

She finally locked on him. Blue eyes met brown. "Jess…" she repeated, ever so softly. "What _am _I doing?" He felt an impossible, probably unwarranted surge of relief. "And how…did you…?" Her voice was growing in volume, but she stopped short. "No, I – I have to go." Rory dropped her arms, suddenly looking quite determined, and turned back toward the bar.

Jess's relief vanished. While he loathed that he was staring hard at her back, it was the role-reversal that tormented him. That was the view of him that was likely most prominent in her mind. He had left her too many times. It was no wonder that he was not a part of her life anymore. Not a very big part, anyway. Painfully, he could imagine that if he watched her do this again and again, he would not want much to do with her either.

Was that the truth? All his mixed up feelings pointed to yes, it was, but a part of him wasn't sure it mattered when it came to Rory. He thought he might always be waiting for her. Yes, he could easily do that. It was simple. If Rory found it in her to give him another chance, he knew he would not leave her again. He knew it as certainly and as naturally as he knew his own name.

She was evidently on a mission, but she whipped around mid-stride. The back and forth yo-yoing of this evening was really getting to him. Jess was the type of person that knew a few key truths with little doubt, and that helped him generally be at ease. But this situation was a little too close to his heart, and all this indecision was beginning to hurt.

"I…" she faltered as she looked at him. "Thank you, Jess," she said, somewhat humbly. "I think I have a lot of straightening out ahead of me right now."

Jess listened as he regarded how her curled hair fell around her beautiful, honest face. For the first time that night, he realized she looked more like the Rory he remembered. He remembered the first night they met, when she asked, 'Don't I look trustworthy?' He smiled slightly. 'Atta girl, he thought. His throat felt unnaturally tight, so he just nodded in response.

Rory continued staring at Jess, a million things running through her mind. She was impressed with how calm she suddenly felt. Knowing she was about to try to set things right was oddly empowering. "It was good to see you. Despite how embarrassed I am that you witnessed this –" she gestured at nothing, but he understood. "Despite that, I am really pleased to see you. And to see how well you're doing. Thanks for coming here. Really."

"Rory, I – " I, what? He thought. I love you? I need you? I would do anything for you? All a little dramatic, Mariano. Regardless of the veracity of all aforementioned, unuttered thoughts, it was an inappropriate time for their delivery. Jess felt that possibly, one day, he might be able to tell her such feelings. Not today, though, buddy.

"Of course," he said simply. He purposely set his face, as he had so many times before, withholding his emotions.

She smiled. "I would still like to take you up on that offer of catching up at a better time. We kind of got…deprived, here, tonight." Rory elaborated unnecessarily.

I'll say, Jess thought. But he was pleased. "Call me, whenever," he said, firmly.

Rory nodded in response, and Jess felt it was the right time to leave. He turned, and she watched him walk away, around the gate, and out of her line of sight. She had an urge to run after him, but responsibility kept her anchored. Logan. The DAR. Her grandparents. Community service. Yale. Yale.

Yale. Journalism. Her future. Rory was back, ladies and gentlemen. Oh, Jess. He was older, so much more mature than the Jess of their teenage years. And yet, when he gave her his tiny, crooked smile, her chest hitched. Every good and exhilarating feeling from their relationship was revived, knocking persistently as ever on her heart, begging her mind to allow their entrance. Not yet, she thought. She tried her best to ignore that plea. For now.

Please review! Thanks!


	2. Chapter 2

What You Want

Chapter 2

"What? What?! WHAT?!" Lane was literally yelling at Rory. And for someone so small, she could be quite loud.

"Geesh. I am right here," Rory patiently reminded her, very understanding towards her surprise.

Lane dragged her feet over to the couch. "Hang on. I need just a minute." All five-foot-one of Lane's frame dropped backwards over the arm of the couch in her, Zach's, and Brian's apartment. "So Jess showed up? At your grandparent's place? And then you, and him, and LOGAN, all went to dinner together?" Lane's voice was incredulous.

"Well, to be fair, we didn't really get around to the dinner part."

"Rory," Lane was chiding her. "Pedantic."

"Yes, that was the general idea," Rory said, rolling her eyes and answering Lane's question.

"Thank you."

"But no food was involved."

"Well, that's good. Sounds like it could have ended worse," Lane grinned at her. "Remember your ninth birthday?"

"OH! God. I couldn't eat chili for a month. Huh," she contemplated. "I never realized why it was always finger food from there on out at birthday gatherings."

"Glad we could clear that up. Now let's focus on what's important." Lane stared at the popcorn texture on her ceilings. "Jess showed up...you haven't seen Jess since he said, 'I love you' at the Winter Carnival a couple of years ago…Was it hard seeing him again?"

Lane, her hands folded patiently behind her head and supporting its weight, was looking over at Rory. Rory thought seriously about what Lane was saying, deducing by her tone that they were entering the main essence of their conversation. "No. Not at all. It was really nice seeing him." That was the truth. If Rory was being honest with herself, it was somewhere far beyond nice to see Jess.

"Okay. How was Logan with everything?" Lane's arm sort of waved around as she asked.

There were a couple of minutes of pause before Rory actually answered. She knew that was an important question. And it was one that she had avoided, ever since departing from Logan. She remembered how disappointed she had felt when he pulled up in her grandparents' driveway, as her and Jess were about to depart. And she remembered how awkward she felt trying to make small talk with the two of them, neither helping with their hushed selves. And most importantly, she remembered how wrong it had felt, riding back with Logan, the only noise to comfort her being the annoying engine of his Porsche. His _Porsche_, she thought. He drove a Porsche. Geez.

Never in Rory's life did she imagine herself riding in a Porsche. Not that was what mattered. Logan was the important thing here. How _was_ Logan with everything?

Rory started the story from her recent memories, everything sort of swirling around in her head at once. "He was a jerk to Jess." Rory paused after this, whether for dramatic effect or because she was still thinking what to say next, Lane was not sure. But the true effect was that Lane felt certain that Logan being a jerk to Jess had ruined him. It was his downfall. His Der Untergang. And then Rory continued, "He kept trying to one-up Jess. He listed author after author, book after book, in a weird attempt to compare him to literary heroes. It was…pathetic. I don't know. I went back inside after talking to Jess and he was just the same as ever. Worse, in fact. He acted as is he had been wronged. "

"La-aane!! Work! Seven AM…" Brian's voice sounded from one of the bunk beds in the corner.

Her head popped up, eyes concerned. "Oh, Brian! I'm sorry. We'll, uh…go outside." She looked at Rory. "Want some tea?"

Rory nodded, and they quietly made their way to the kitchen, where Rory filled up the kettle and turned on the heat as Lane reached for a box of teabags. She tapped incessantly at the counter, thinking away. Lane knew Jess was like a son to Luke, but she honestly never expected to see him again after he abandoned Rory. And, now – here he was, like her knight in shining armor, to be trite. But it was true. Rory had spent about an hour with Jess – and about five minutes alone with Jess, and now she was ready to pound at the ivy-covered gates of Yale for them to readmit her. There was something to be said for that kind of influence. Basically, everyone in Rory's life thought she should be attending school – Lane included – and all it took was Jess saying the words. That had to mean something very big. Rory had to see that.

Rory did see that. She turned the electric burner off before the water boiled too heavily, and picked up the kettle to fill the mugs Lane had set beside the stove. The water fell noiselessly. Inexplicably, Rory felt content.

The girls wandered into the chill November evening, coats over their shoulders, mugs in their hands, and a blanket to place over themselves. They settled on the bench outside Lane's apartment. "Where were we?" Lane asked.

"The whole time, I wanted to stop him," Rory continued, picking up where they had left off. "And I didn't. I just sat there, angry at Logan for being an insufferable ass and for showing up early. He was supposed to be in Omaha for another day! I just wanted to talk to Jess. And I knew, as soon as Logan showed up, that was not going to be a possibility. No, siree. But I still went along with the whole rouse. It was Jess who stopped it. He called Logan a 'dickhead.' To be more precise," Rory was smiling as she repeated the words, "he fairly calmly called Logan a 'blonde dickhead." She shook her head, and Lane just stared on, incredulous. She was not surprised at Jess's behavior, in the least, but rather at Rory's words. "I can't explain it, but that just made my evening. I can't tell him this, but he's right. Logan is a dickhead. He is a blonde dickhead." Rory was relived as she let it out. But a couple deep breaths later and she continued. "Okay, he's not necessarily a dickhead. At least, not all the time. But he was being one tonight. And I think I'm just really enjoying saying dickhead." She turned to Lane, who was staring. "I can't say I've ever said it before."

Lane took a moment before smiling back at her. "I should think not. It was never a part of your vernacular, Ms. Gilmore."

Rory smiled in return. She felt oddly free at the moment. It was like a continuation of the moment when Jess had reminded her how silly she was being. She knew that community service and the DAR and no college would not fulfill her. And somehow, she still needed to hear it. From who? Not from her mother, or her grandparents, but from Jess. Jess reminded her of her own self. She had drive, a voice, and she wasn't squeamish when it came time to use it. Her opinion mattered – her mother had taught her that. And at the moment, she felt ridiculous thinking of how she had suppressed her beliefs for six months. Six months! How could she have let herself do that? To utterly lie to herself as she had? It was a question she would not be capable of answering for a long time.

"Dickhead."

"Rory?"

"Yes?"

"Did you and Logan break up?"

She shook her head sadly. "No. No, we did not."

"I don't mean to be insensitive here, but why not?" Lane really hoped that she was not crossing any sort of invisible boundary. She was never any good with those – something about growing up with too many restrictions.

Rory did not answer immediately, and looked troubled. She shook her head, and wrung her hands a bit. The silence was cutting at Lane, so she spoke up. "I mean, I don't think you should necessarily, it's just after every-"

Rory cut in. "No, no. You're right. I do need to talk with Logan. I don't know. Everything was so good for awhile. We were going along steadily, but the more I think about it, the more I don't like it. Right now, we're on a break." She used air quotes as she said it. "When I went back in there I told him he was a jerk, that Jess was doing something with his life, and asked him who he thought he was to make fun, especially when I am here, doing nothing with my life."

"Rory-"

"No, you're absolutely right. Maybe he thought he was letting me be my own person, but I was seriously confused. And I don't think I want to be with someone who is content with that level of my confusion for so long. Especially over something like this. It seems fair to say that he just didn't know me at all." Rory shook her head. "I mean, sure, he knew a version of me. But my own mother didn't really like him! What was I thinking?"

"Rory, you're mom didn't really like Jess though…"

Rory nodded, staring hard at the town square in the distance as she began to slowly explain. "Yes, you're right. I know this is going to sound like an excuse, but it was different. With Jess, I could understand why my mom didn't like him. And I knew that if he could let my mom see just a fraction of who he really was – like who he was when we were alone together – we would be making progress, no problem. And my mom was a bit stubborn, too, big surprise. But with Logan, my mom wasn't imagining things. He really was – is – the spoiled brat she believed him to be. And I was the one lying to myself regarding that accusation. Did I ever tell you about the dinner at my grandparents, with the five of us?" Lane shook her head, and Rory continued. "He took this antique sewing box – a trinket of my grandmother's – and replaced it with something from another old biddie's home, the last one he had visited. He said it was 'a little Life and Death Brigade business.' Emily, being Emily, noticed immediately. And he didn't speak up. He just sat there, looking only slightly abashed. I just sat there, too! Oh, I'm pathetic. Then, my mother had to cover for him. The next day my grandmother fired the maid."

"Wow."

"Yeah. Now that I am thinking about all this, I cannot believe it took me until now to see Logan as he really is. My mom is going to be ridiculously happy…assuming she forgives me."

Lane looked over at her friend. Rory's face revealed just about every emotion, and it was currently wearing what looked like regret. Agonizing and painful regret. "Rory, please don't get too down on yourself over this whole situation. You know, your mom has really missed you. So, so much." Rory slowly shook her head, and let a couple of tears fall.

"I know you're right, but I still just feel so stupid. How did I let it go on for so long?"

Lane put a comforting arm over her friend's shoulder. "All that really matters is that you are here now. And you want to set things straight, right?"

Rory nodded, sadly. "Right."

"So, let's set straight!" Lane's tone had turned optimistic and upbeat. "Would you like to go to Lorelai's now?"

Rory shook her head vehemently. "No, not yet. I mean, if it's okay with you. I am not quite ready to face her. I would like to talk with school, and figure out a living situation, and possibly search out some internships or something before I go crawling back to her. Is it okay if I crash with you for a bit?"

"Rory, of course! I would be delighted to have someone here who smells nice and doesn't 'forget' where the dumpster is or that brooms exist." She smiled. "Kidding. They're not all bad," she said of Zach and Brian.

Rory still looked unconvinced. "Won't they mind my staying here?"

"Not if they know what's good for them," Lane responded, adamant. She smiled at her friend. They had known each other a long time, and Lane's utter confidence in and support for Rory bolstered her. Rory smiled back, small, but sure that she was doing the right thing. Finally.

* * *

Rory slept for maybe four hours on Lane's couch. The next day was Friday, and she was beyond anxious to make progress on her rediscovered priorities. By six, she had her computer in front of her and was researching. By eight, she had made coffee for the apartment, and only consumed about half of it herself. By ten, she had talked with Yale, and she was scheduled to return for Spring semester, assuming her meeting the next week with the English department chair went accordingly. She had also talked with Paris, who was going to sublet the spare room to Rory in her and Doyle's apartment. Things were definitely looking up.

Truly, she was elated. Rory felt more like herself than she had in months. She only had a few things with her though, and so she planned to swing by her grandparents' before her community service, which began at noon at the hospital in Hartford. She sighed, as she closed her computer, her adjusted resume still open on the screen, and went to brush her teeth.

"Rory! You're up! How are you? What are you up to today? Hm?" Boy, Lane was energetic in the mornings.

Rory spit into the sink and wandered out to where Lane was. She waved a hand in front of Lane's face and squinted at her. "That you?"

Lane swatted her hand down. "Silly."

"Seriously. What's up with you?" Rory questioned.

"Nothing." Lane smiled innocently. "Just happy to have you here. You make really good coffee." At that, Rory gave her a genuine smile.

"Years of practice."

"Of course. Now, what are your plans for the day?"

"Currently? Well, I am currently listing all the things I would rather do than go see my grandmother." Rory cringed involuntarily as she said it.

"You mean, like walk across hot coals?"

"Oh! Good one. I was thinking more like skydiving. That always seemed quite stupid to me."

Lane grinned. "I want to go skydiving. Zach said he would take me for my birthday."

"Crazy girl," was Rory's only response, as she cleaned up her few things. It looked as if she hadn't been there.

"God, you're clean," Lane said as she sipped at a mug and watched Rory. "It's a welcome change."

"I have to get going. I'll be back later tonight, though." She was all business now.

"And I am off at five. We're supposed to have band practice tonight. Just a head's up. If you are looking for quiet, maybe steer clear until eight-ish." Lane swayed her hand, indicating 'somewhere around there.'

"Noted," Rory gave her a nod and headed out. It was crisp and clear outside, and Rory felt like it had been ages since she had actually surveyed and appreciated her surroundings. After all this time, it felt extraordinarily nice to be home. The only thing capable of making her feel better than she already did was her mother's forgiveness; a real-live, welcome home from the woman who meant more to Rory than anyone. She was itching to see Lorelai and she knew it wouldn't much longer.

* * *

Please review! Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

What You Want

Chapter 3

Luck was on Rory's side: in the hour or so she spent at her grandparents' oversized residence, not a soul emerged. All the staff appeared to have a day off, she knew her grandfather was traveling for business, and her grandmother was, serendipitously and thankfully, out. After about ten stairway traverses, the books and clothing she had brought to her grandparents the previous spring were loaded tidily into her compact car, and she felt satisfied at how neatly it all fit.

Rory returned her key to the house and wrote a quick note, leaving it on the table in the foyer. It was both a thank you for putting up with her, and an apology for leaving so abruptly, citing it was 'just right' and what she needed to do. She hoped they would understand that she had never really belonged under their roof – at least, not in the capacity she had been. Happy to have parted her recent dwelling seemingly with relative ease, Rory hurried to her car, turned over the engine, and headed towards the hospital, exhaling a tense breath she had not realized she was holding.

* * *

It had been three full days and three fairly restless nights since Jess had unceremoniously yelled at Rory. Admittedly, it had been a very odd three days. Jess could not just let the entire experience rest. He was not sure what he had expected to result in going to see Rory, but he was sure that scolding her as he had was not in the plan. He only wanted to thank her and share his book. She had unknowingly played a huge role in its creation, and he felt an inexplicable need to express that to her. But he had scolded her instead. That evening, driving back toward Philly, he thought he had been helpful; but three days of ceaseless agonizing over the whole situation and here he was, doubting himself.

Damn her. He had spent the greater part of three years learning not to doubt himself and his judgment. Finally, he had become accountable to himself, and even to others. Though he lacked a pompous swagger to show for it, he was beginning to feel proud of who he was, and be happy with that person. Damn Rory for effortlessly and most likely, unintentionally, reminding him of his confused and slightly tormented eighteen-year-old self.

As he finished placing a stack of slim volumes on the now dust-free mahogany shelf, Jess sighed. Cleaning the place had been an awfully poor distraction. Instead of clearing his mind, it was swimming with thoughts of what Rory was doing right now. Where was she? Who was with her? Who was getting to rest their eyes upon that insanely beautiful face? What was she wearing? Oh, god…

"Chris!" Jess gave an exasperated shout from his hunched-over position. "I need a new chore. Please. Preferably one requiring mental faculties beyond that of a chimp." Chris just grinned over at him while Jess fidgeted. "What?" Jess snapped.

In response, Chris shook his head slowly. "Man, go read a book or something. It's your day off. I don't care what you do, just get the hell away from here for a while." Chris, sitting at the computer operating the press, gestured sweepingly in the direction of the front door, hinting at all the possibilities outside it.

"I can't."

"That doesn't sound like you…" Chris regarded him and his joking tone turned neutral. "Honestly, what's going on with you? You've been, I don't know, all tense. For days." Chris had not thought much of Jess's behavior until today. It wasn't that Jess wasn't usually helpful. Rather, Jess wasn't usually so surly and dejected while being a help.

"Nothing," Jess sighed, again, while pulling a hand through his unkempt hair. "I saw an old friend when I was in Hartford," he grimaced, remembering Rory's initial description of him to Logan. "And I don't know," he paused, not sure how much, or even what, to say. He shook his head, looking back to Chris. "I just keep thinking about it. Repeatedly. Incessantly. It's getting really annoying."

"What was so noteworthy about it?"

Jess did not answer immediately. He was having difficulty providing a response beyond the one Chris would not understand, which was one word: Rory. Rory, in and of herself, was noteworthy. It was as if the image of her face had been burned to the insides of his eyelids, and because she was nice to look at, there was not a whole lot of room for complaint. The way he felt watching the real Rory reemerge had also been quite remarkable. It reminded him of the brief moments by the Inn at Sookie's wedding, when she had boldly kissed him. For just a heavenly fraction of time, he felt like he was floating. It was fleeting, of course. Reality returned with jarring purpose, and like with his current predicament, she was gone, but he could not stop thinking about her.

Matthew strolled in then, loquacious as ever, with several people in tow, breaking Jess's reverie. Jess turned his attention back toward Chris, "drink at the pub, later?" he asked. It was inevitable. He needed to talk about this at some point, as it was clearly bigger than him. So instead of waiting for it to eat away at him entirely, he decided to be responsibly proactive. He had been "proactive" when it came to Rory once, and she had crushed him with her fervent "no." Hindsight really was twenty-twenty. That was a reckless attempt at being proactive, and not something he intended to repeat.

Chris swiveled around to the computer screen. "This should be done around seven."

Jess nodded and stood up, tossing a rag in a low bin. He gave a half-wave at Chris before sidestepping the group at the door, and walking into the chill, Philadelphia afternoon.

* * *

It was Sunday evening. Rory was simultaneously exhilarated and exhausted. She had done two and a half straight days of shifts, where ever she could get in. Now, her mandated community service was officially completed. It was a great feeling – another check on her list. But all of the muscles she was capable of naming, and then some, were whimpering in defeat. She shuffled inside Lane's apartment and collapsed on the couch next to Brian.

"Hey, Rory!"

"Hmmm," was all she could manage in response. Her eyes were closed serenely, and of their own accord.

"Wow, you look…"

"Mm, hmm." She knew. She did not need reminding. She breathed in, low and deep, and asked slowly, "What's going on here?"

"Gil just left, and Lane and Zach are picking up some pizza," he reported happily.

She perked up a bit. "Oh, bless them." Rory sighed. "Now, if only there were some coffee involved, we would be in business."

Brian chuckled. "I can't offer you coffee, but how about a little VH1?" His eyebrows were raised and the remote was directed at the muted television. "They're running some special for the 'Confessions on a Dance Floor' album, which is kind of a bummer, but it involves reliving all her best moments."

Rory smiled. "Sure." Brian settled in and the audio came to life. "Madge. What a role model…" and they settled into a content viewership, with Rory's eyes popping open every few minutes, then slowly slipping shut. Her nodding-off was interrupted only for a couple slices of pizza, after which she passed out completely. She did not recall being woken by Lane and Brian who helped convert her from the odd sitting-sleeping position she had established, into one where she was prone like a normal sleeping person.

Rory awoke Monday morning to the bustle of Lane's apartment. She had already become accustomed to the sounds – Brian's moderate, nasal snore, the rustle and drag of Zach's slippers early in the morning, the slow creak of their aged cupboards, and Lane's gentle, unconscious drumming on any and all free surfaces. She stretched and grabbed her bag over the arm of the couch, pulling her laptop out and booting it up.

Five minutes later, she had a cup of coffee in her hand, and was skimming through her inbox. She opened a number of disappointing emails before one made her yelp, shocking Lane and Zach from their breakfasts at the bar.

"What? What is it?" Lane asked, concerned.

It was quickly clear to them that it Rory's wordless reply was not cause for concern. After a minute of reading, she responded. "They want me back!"

"Who?" Unreasonably and inexplicably, the first thought to cross Lane's mind was of Jess.

"The Stamford Eagle Gazette! I begged and pleaded – groveled, really – with the editor and hiring manager there, and they're willing to have me there. I can't believe it!" Rory's eyes sped across the screen, and she beamed up Zach and Lane. Lane ran over to Rory, hugged her tight, and congratulated her.

"Kudos, Rory. I guess that means you're going to be leaving us," Zach alluded.

"Zach!" Lane shrieked at him, mostly in jest. "Chill." He made a 'calm-down' gesture and returned to his food. "Rory! This is great news. When do you get to start? What will you do? Is it what you were doing before?"

Rory grinned uncontrollably. "I don't think it will be my old job, per se. But I don't exactly care right now."

"Would it be corny if I told you I'm proud of you?" Zach rolled his eyes and poured milk over his second bowl of cereal. Rory turned solemn.

"A little," she responded, in mock seriousness. Then her smile broke again. "But I'm proud of you, too!"

They hugged again, like little girls. Lane swatted at her. "No, you're prettier!"

"No, you!" Rory laughed.

Zach stalked into Lane's bedroom, muttering to himself the entire way.

"Well, now that he's out of our hair…" Rory shook her head at Lane. "What happens next?"

Rory pondered Lane's question. This felt too good to be real. With a lot of help, she was finding her way back to herself. Indeed, the past few days had been a blur. But she no longer felt like she was drowning or suffocating. Her head was above water, and she was swimming with purpose.

"It's time to go home." Rory thought Lane might have another squeal in her, but she just beamed at her, like she knew this would happen all along.

"I start at Luke's in a half hour. Want to come with me?"

Rory thought that just might be perfect. "Yes, please!" She figured Lorelai would be there, and she could hardly wait to tell her the good news. As she typed out a response to the Gazette, she realized she was gradually and appropriately reshaping her life. Sure, she had made a big mess out of things and turned into a person she did not quite recognize, but knowing she was capable of climbing back out the rabbit hole gave her a surprising surge of self-confidence.

Luke looked up when the diner door opened. He was clearing a table in his typical flannel and backwards baseball cap. "Lane. Good – could you work your magic with Caesar?" Luke pointed his thumb over his shoulder in the general direction of the kitchen, leaned in a bit, and spoke out the side of his mouth. "He's freaking out over something or other, and all I'm hearing is some angry muttering. You're good with calming him."

"I'm on it," she responded, hurrying to the kitchen.

Rory took a breath and smiled, content. The lighting, the smell of delicious food, the general feel of the place – it was all so familiar and safe. "Rory," Luke finally noticed her, and stalled in wiping down a table. "How're….you?"

Luke was never good at these sorts of situations. Hell, it was a new one for Rory, too. "I'm really, really good," she said, with genuine honesty. "How are you, Luke?"

He resumed his cleaning. "Same old, same old. People come in hungry, and I feed 'em. Uh," he searched for something to say. "How are the grandparents?"

Rory nodded, hands in her pockets. "Good, I presume. Um, think I could get some coffee?"

Luke jumped to. "Sure thing. For here, or to go?"

Rory settled comfortably on a stool. "For here, please."

Luke smiled at her as he placed a mug the size of a soup tureen on the counter and filled it. "It's good to have you back, Rory."

"It's good to be back," she said, softly, cradling the mug.

"All better, Luke!" Lane appeared from the kitchen, tying an apron around herself before grabbing an order pad and getting to work.

"Thank you, Lane," Luke sounded truly grateful. "Caesar can be a pain when he's unhappy," Luke said quietly to Rory.

She shuddered. "Oh, I know. We've had _those_ pancakes." Luke nodded knowingly. "Um, Luke?"

"Hmm?" He was a bit distracted, cashing in a tab at the register.

"Has my mom been in yet?"

Luke looked over at her, expressionless. "No. Not yet. Though, I don't know for sure if she will be. Some mornings she just goes straight to the inn."

"Oh, okay." Rory sipped on her coffee. She could go to The Dragonfly. No problem. The fact that her mom might not come in did not worry Rory. 'Goodness, this coffee tastes good,' she thought. She continued sipping. There was one more thing she felt she needed to do, now that she was at the diner. "Um, Luke?" she repeated.

"Yeah?"

"Could I…I mean, do you…" Rory felt like a bit of a moron. 'Just say it, you know you want to,' she thought. Luke waited, patiently. Rory pulled in a fresh breath of air. "Do you happen to have Jess's number?"

That was definitely not was Luke was expecting. "Uh, yeah," he responded, slowly, still a little dumbfounded. As his thinking sped up, he recalled his most recent conversation with Jess. It had been about a month ago, and it took Jess all of thirty seconds before Luke revealed to him where Rory was. And that was it. They moved on to other topics, and Luke hadn't thought too much of it. Now, though, it seemed curious to him, but he didn't feel comfortable asking.

Rory didn't really want to ask Luke for Jess's number directly, but it did not seem to be registering that she was more than curious if Luke was in possession of the number. When the silence continued, she knew she had to ask. "Do you think I could get it from you?" she elaborated, as politely and innocently as ever.

"Oh," Luke thought for a moment. He wasn't sure he liked where this could be going. It was Rory. And Jess. And, oh, hell. Who was he to play god? "Sure. Would you like it now?" He did not wait for a response as he set the coffee pot on its holder and said, "You know, I'll just go grab it for you," and disappeared behind the floral curtain than led to his apartment.

Rory smiled contentedly and continued sipping her coffee. Luke appeared just a couple minutes later with a small, torn scrap of paper, simply adorned with ten numbers, and set it down in front of her. Rory noted how Luke had separated the digits into three groups, with no dashes, and she quickly committed them to memory. She was about to pick up the slip of paper and tuck it safely away when her mother's voice completely stilled her.

"Rory?" Lorelai's voice was entirely stunned.

Rory turned to see her. One look at each other, and they knew. Lorelai realized the importance of Rory sitting here at the diner. She literally felt her heart clench, and in a very good way. There was Rory, standing willfully in front of her. Lorelai looked her up and down and eyed her suspiciously, and then pointed suddenly as she said, "you're trying out for American Idol?"

"Mom!" Rory shook her head at her silliness, even now, in what should have been a very dignified reunion. Leave it to Lorelai to keep the ludicrous commentary rolling.

"Oh, I'm sorry! Is it SYTYCD?"

"So You Think You Can Dance? Really?" Rory asked, incredulously.

"What? You've got a better chance there than with American Idol."

"Yes, you're right. Which is really saying something terrible about my voice. What can I say? I only got your eyes and your eating habits and your divine beauty, but not your raw talent behind a microphone." Rory rolled her eyes slightly, but was smiling, wholeheartedly.

"RORY!" Lorelai tackled her, and the two would have collapsed if it weren't for the counter behind them. "You're back!"

"Air!" Rory gasped.

"Sorry!" Lorelai pulled back to examine her and repeated, "You're back."

Rory bit her lip, smiling. All she could manage as she nodded was, "I'm back."

"Really?"

"Want to call Yale and ask them yourself?"

Lorelai gave an excited squeal. "You're really back! Coffee! On the house!"

"Excuse me?" Luke stared at her.

"Luke," Lorelai started, as if speaking to a child. "This is Rory," Lorelai said, presenting her by gesturing show-like with both hands. "It's been _months_, Luke. We must celebrate."

"So, go celebrate. Stop trying to give away my coffee."

Lorelai put on her best pout face. "Luuuukkkeee," she whined, with the slightest hint of a threat behind it. "Give the people coffee, and I'll thank you later."

"Oh, gross," Rory shook her head.

"Rory, please, I'm working here," Lorelai said, turning back to Luke.

He stared for a minute before caving. "Fine, coffee on the house," Luke said, defeated. He nodded at Lane, who started pouring for the happy audience.

"Thanks, Lorelai," Kirk said, talking over the loud babble that had erupted once the moment broke. "I love a free anything. The day the phone book comes is my favorite. Rory," he gave her a nod. "Good to have you back."

"Thanks, Kirk," Rory said. "It's good to be here." It was going to be a long, repetitive day, but she didn't particularly mind.

"I'm not working today. Officially, forever. I deem today, Rory Gilmore Rebirth Day," Lorelai took a break to swallow a gulp of coffee.

"Well, technically, my supposed rebirth was a few days ago."

"What? When? Why am I only finding out now?" Lorelai feigned affronted very well.

Rory grabbed the napkin on the countertop and got off her stool. "Come on, I'll tell you all about it. Let's go see Michel and Sookie. Oh, and Jackson. And the babies! And Miss Patty, and Babette." Rory looked seriously at Lorelai. "We have a lot to do, come now. See you all later!"

"Yes, we do! Bye, everyone!" Lorelai gave the customers in the diner a regal wave before following her daughter out the door. Most people responded, happy to see the two together again. Lorelai was beside herself with excitement. Rory was back!


	4. Chapter 4

What You Want

Chapter 4

"Babydoll?….Honeyface?…Sugarcake?"

No response. Only crickets. Daytime crickets, actually. Lorelai stared in the direction of the staircase, lips pursed. "Rorrr-eeyyy?" She hollered.

"What-ey?" Rory returned. Lorelai calmed, despite knowing Rory was upstairs. Call her crazy, but months without Rory and she was feeling a little paranoid. Who knew if that hologram she saw back at the diner was real or not – she had to be certain!

"Just checking. Geesh. Don't get your panty hose in a twist."

Rory rolled her eyes as she walked downstairs, approaching her mother. "I don't generally wear panty hose. 'Specially not with jeans. And 'Sugarcake', really?"

"Oh, I know. It's just such a faux pas these days," Lorelai responded, ignoring Rory's last comment.

"Mom."

"Right," Lorelai smiled at Rory. "Well, you're all unpacked, so, what now? I forget how this works."

Rory glanced toward the living room, still on the stair landing. "Umm… Well, I don't remember."

"Oh, boy."

"We saw everyone. Babette showed us Maury's hat collection and the cat album. Miss Patty smothered me. Kirk shared his love of phone books with us. Michel gave me that incredibly awkward hug. Sookie fed us. Humongous amounts of food…"

"I heard that humongous isn't actually a word? Is that true? Because I don't trust anything unless you tell me. Or Vogue tells me. It's generally one or the other."

"Typically, if a slang term is used frequently enough in common vernacular, it becomes worthy of the Oxford English Dictionary."

"So is it, or isn't it?" Lorelai was unsettled.

Rory shook her head slightly. "I certainly don't know. Do you see those convenient little thumb indices in the seam, here?" Rory gestured up and down her side.

"Point taken."

"We could look it up," Rory suggested.

"Yeah," Lorelai turned and headed toward the kitchen, and Rory followed. "Yeah, I think I actually have an appointment with the, uh…the, uh…"

"It's okay, Mom."

Lorelai looked at her gratefully, all joking turning to seriousness. "I'm a little out of practice. Luke's pretty good, but he's not you."

Rory nodded. "Well, that's good. That would be inappropriate."

"I'm glad you're home." Lorelai beamed, and opened her arms slightly.

Rory easily stepped forward into the hug. "I'm so sorry, Mom. I was foolish. Completely irrational." Rory sighed into Lorelai's shoulder. "I just believed so strongly that it was something I needed to do. And maybe I did need to do it. But, still, I'm so sorry. I never meant to let you down like that."

"I'm glad you're home, kid," Lorelai repeated.

* * *

It was dusk, and it was beginning to snow. Jess could not help thinking it was a little early for snow, and he spitefully pulled his jacket more tightly around him. Throughout his childhood growing up in New York, Jess never recalled minding the cold. Then, he spent one winter in California, and he could not readjust to the chill currently pervading his bones.

Matters were not helped due to the fact that Jess was heading to meet guy he didn't particularly like. The guy had written four pieces for Windrush, a zine Jess helped to publish monthly. Jess, Andrew, Chris, and Matt generally met with regular contributors at Truncheon, or at least on neutral territory, like at a restaurant or coffee shop. But this guy, Marco, had called the previous day and attempted, in his unbelievably thick Portuguese accent, to reschedule on them for the fourth time. Between Jess's adversity to the weather and being coerced into dealing with the 'artist,' he was struggling to even imagine himself appearing professional soon. Damn Marco for coveting the home-field advantage. And damn Jess's terrible luck at five-card draw. Or any card game, for that matter.

He only had a few more blocks to go. Jess shook his head and sped up slightly. He found himself cursing like this far too frequently in the past few days. Last night, he had been at the pub with Chris. In hour one, they had started drinking. That was when the majority of his cursing occurred. Jess had opened up to Chris about Rory, including the pre-, during, and post-relationship, as well as the thoughts he was currently nursing. Chris was a good listener. While Jess had harped on his own apparent inability to leave well enough alone when it came to all-things-Rory, Chris had remained fairly silent. 'To hell with all this!' Jess had said, after hitting the important points, then hitting the tabletop with his open palm. Chris only had to raise both eyebrows skeptically in response, and Jess caved. 'Fine. Maybe I don't mean that. But to hell with something…' Jess scanned the room while he thought. 'Porsches. To hell with Porsches.' Chris had chuckled and tilted his glass in agreement.

In hour two, Andrew had joined them, starting a round of darts and aiding them as they worked their way through a second, and then a third pitcher. In hour three, Matt finally appeared, bringing the latest work news and flask of Jameson. Though they were inebriated enough to not care about the rudeness of this move, they remained overly cautious about drinking outside alcohol in the local bar.

In hour four, darts were deemed too dangerous by Sean, one of the bartenders, and they piled into a booth at his request. In hour five, the card playing began. Out of pure self-preservation, Jess stopped drinking. He was generally terrible at poker when intoxicated, a thought which reminded him of the hatchet of a headache he would likely have the next day. And he had not been able to help himself from thinking, 'to hell with alcohol, too.'

As Jess rounded the final corner before Marco's apartment building, a fierce wind swept past him. It thrashed his hair about a bit – he hadn't bothered doing anything to it today. With his hands buried as deep into his pockets as possible, he felt simultaneously annoyed and revived by the weather. He realized he didn't actually hate the cold, not really.

Winter had been nonexistent in Venice Beach, and after leaving there, temperatures below forty degrees had seemed insulting. Looking down the street, thousands of snowflakes danced under the streetlamps. Everything was momentarily quiet and unmoving and Jess admired it all. It really was pretty. _Like a snow globe_, he thought. He didn't – couldn't – hate this. He didn't really mean it when he said to hell with alcohol, either. And certainly, and most importantly, he harbored no ill feelings of any kind towards Rory.

'How could I?' he thought, hopelessly. After all, he knew he was still completely in love with her. His obsessive thoughts over all-things-Rory the past few days confirmed what he had always grudgingly known. He had no idea how to stop loving Rory Gilmore.

* * *

The two Gilmore girls sat in front of the television, credits rolling. It was dark outside. Lorelai groaned.

"So, I'm just going out on a limb here, but I think that final bag of food – the pizza pocket-y things – might have been a mistake," Rory said, shifting on the new and improved couch.

"Shut your mouth!" Lorelai exclaimed, feigning incensed easily.

"Sorry, sorry." Rory laid her head back on a pillow, in undeniable likeness to her mother. "This is a pretty comfortable couch."

"Yeah? You like it?"

"I approve," Rory said, closing her eyes tiredly.

"Good. Took me long enough to pick it out. Weeks of debating. Couch. Loveseat. Leather. Plush. Striped. Solid. So many options! Who knew a couch could be so complicated?" She exclaimed.

"Not me."

"Yeah, well," Lorelai improvised, "It's serious business."

"I'm sure."

They fell into an easy silence. They had talked through the majority of both movies. They had caught up with each other's lives – the big things, anyway – and still, they managed to keep the conversation surprisingly light. Rory was impressed with her mother's restraint: Lorelai had avoided asking her about Logan at all, and Rory had probably only mentioned his name twice. She recalled one time had been in reference to the holy Birkin bag. Oh, the Berkin bag. Rory mentally shook her head, thinking of how impractical a bag it was for her, especially when she discovered the approximate price. She was more than a little horrified at the number of zeroes before that decimal.

Rory wondered if Lorelai's avoidance of the topic of Logan was more purposeful than a simple attempt to 'keep the conversation light.' Did her mother assume they were not together any longer, and that was why Rory was back? Or did Lorelai just not want to talk about Logan, thinking of the role he played in Rory's departure from Yale, and consequently, their extended separation? Perhaps it was a bit of both?

Whatever the reason, Rory was grateful for some room to think on the topic. Largely on her own, she had come to the conclusion that she felt naïve for her time spent with Logan. Sure, it was only last week they were still a couple, but Rory could not help noticing how different things looked to her after their most recent fight. Logan and Rory had nearly opposite priorities in life. He enjoyed drinking, partying, avoiding school, and just generally wreaking havoc where possible. Granted, he was creative in his endeavors. His imagination and smarts were undeniable, which she figured had kept her so interested. But she knew that if she pictured a little further into the future, they did not want the same sort of life. He was running from responsibility, while she craved it. And more than all the other reasons, she just knew, deep down, they were not right for each other. They had enjoyed each other's company, but she could not imagine being with Logan beyond her time in college.

Through most of this thinking – thoughts of the future – feelings of Jess were upturned. Now, that boy, she had not quite figured out. Somewhere on her various mental lists regarding why her and Logan ought not to be together, Jess was a reason. She had trouble with that. Because when he had left at the end of her freshman year – after his wildly flattering proposition – she had done everything in her power to bury her memories of Jess. The bad ones, at least. The good ones, she just let fade into the background, until she could lie to herself about how much she missed him, and them together.

Dean had been her ingenuous, young love. Logan, on the other hand, had been her experienced, more full-fledged love. But Jess…Jess was indescribable. And because she was still young and fairly shy at the time, she had acted safely with him. Like when she realized it was Jess calling her – as he said he would – and she told him she thought she might have loved him. It was a horrible lie. She knew she loved him. But her feelings were on the line – and she was infinitely more involved than she had been with Dean, which was hard enough to express.

Rory recalled wanting to express to him how she felt, back in her senior year, when she started to feel him pulling away from her. She did not know how, though. When they tried to talk about it, she felt him tuck tighter inside himself. It was miniscule each time, but she felt it; and more than anything, she did not want to lose Jess.

All these thoughts were overwhelming. She stirred and gently shook Lorelai's shoulder. "Mom, I think it's time for dreaming."

Lorelai swatted at her hand. "Mm hmm, Honeycake. Sure thing. Just walk on upstairs for me, will ya? Thanks."

"Mom," she said, shaking again. "Fine, but don't blame me when you can't figure out why in the morning you feel like a jackhammer went to play on your neck…" Rory left her Mom, and headed to her room. Relief washed over her as she closed the door and leaned against it. She took a deep breath, but instead of it calming her, it was like she was letting all the emotions wash over her. Surprised at the force of it all, she gasped quietly, and started to cry. The tears fell silently, and uncontrollably. And then she stopped fighting, and slid the length of her door to the wooden floors. She allowed it all to come, and when it ebbed, she felt better. She picked herself up, changed into pajamas, and climbed into bed.

* * *

Thanks for reading!


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